Kael paced the length of the dorm, muttering to himself. “No, no, no, this is bad—this is worse than bad. Purple blood? Orange Luminor? This isn’t random, Ryder. This is connected.”
The stone on my nightstand gave another soft pulse, casting our shadows across the walls.
“Connected to what?” I asked.
Kael froze, his back to me. His knuckles went white around his own Luminor.
He didn’t answer.
Kael’s Luminor glowed brighter, the blue light spilling across the room like a steady flame. It pulsed warm and certain, the kind of glow that meant loyalty, that meant I’ll stay by your side until the end.
“Ry…” His voice cracked as he looked down at me. “…I know what color of stone your mother had.”
I sat up instantly, heart pounding. “Tell me.”
Kael shook his head, his jaw set. “No. But I’ll show you.”
He reached under his pillow and drew out a small iron key, worn smooth at the edges from being hidden too long. He held it in his fist, his stone still glowing through his fingers. Then he climbed down the ladder from his bunk, landing with a quiet thud.
“Come on,” he said solemnly, eyes fixed on mine.
The orange glow on my nightstand pulsed once, faint but steady, as if it had been listening the whole time.
“You wanna WHAT?” I shouted, sitting bolt upright.
Kael grinned down at me, dangling the golden-and-black key between two fingers. “I said I wanna go to the teachers’ room.” He twirled it, the metal catching the lamplight, smug as ever.
I pressed a hand over my face. “Right. I forgot.”
“The filessssssss,” Kael hissed dramatically, making finger guns like this was some kind of stage play.
Despite myself, I almost laughed—but the pulse of orange light from my nightstand shut the humor down fast.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Okay. Fine. Let’s go. But we aren’t dragging anyone else into this. Just me and you.”
“Of course.” Kael’s grin widened, that reckless spark lighting up his blue-glowing stone.
My stomach knotted, but I pushed to my feet anyway. Whatever was in those files… Kael thought it was worth the risk. And if it meant learning the truth about my mother’s stone—
I wasn’t sure I had the strength to say no.
We slipped inside, the lock clicking shut behind us. The teachers’ room was colder than I expected, shelves of thick files lining the walls like a silent jury. The lantern Kael held trembled in his hand, throwing nervous shadows.
I darted past row after row until my eyes snagged on a file with my name scrawled across it—Ryder—inked in both blue and black. My stomach lurched.
Hands shaking, I pulled it free and flipped it open.
BREAKING NEWS
Ronnie Ravenwood — the first person to manifest a pure Vantablack stone. Authorities fear she may be purely evil. She has already taken a follower: Collin Ravenwood, a Blue Luminor, who vows to serve her until death. If they bear a child… the outcome is unknown.
My breath caught. My mother.
Another page slipped loose.
BREAKING NEWS
The two Ravenwoods have been caught. They fled with a child. The academy where Ronnie once studied insists she was not evil, but loyal. Ronnie and Collin have been executed. The child… has not been found.
My hands shook as I turned the last page.
BREAKING NEWS
The child has been located at an academy. Professors claim his Luminor glows green and not mixed. Therefore, he will not be terminated.
The words blurred in my vision. My chest heaved. Terminated.
Beside me, Kael’s breathing grew ragged.
I looked down at my stone. It shifted once—orange, red, black—before slowly settling back to green. Just green.
I slammed the file shut, forcing a breath through my teeth. “They thought I was safe. That I wasn’t mixed.”
But the orange glow flickered at the edge of my vision, mocking me.
Kael finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “See? I told you I knew.”
I turned toward him, but he was already reaching into his jacket pocket with that same reckless grin. In his hand gleamed another key, smaller, silver-tipped.
He held it up proudly. “I may or may not have learned to pickpocket.”
I blinked. “Kael—”
“Relax.” He waggled his eyebrows and slipped a thin folder from a professor’s desk drawer, careful not to rattle the lantern. “Here. This one’s for you.”
I snatched it from him before he could wave it around. The file was slim, fragile. My chest tightened as I opened it, half-afraid of what I’d see.
Inside was a single folded sheet of paper, edges worn soft with time. My fingers trembled as I unfolded it.
The handwriting was familiar, though I’d never actually seen it before—sharp, deliberate strokes that seemed to carry weight on the page.
A note.
From my mother.
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